Christmas is always best at Home, and even better when Home comes to visit. It was the best moment ever, when Oma and Opa emerged from the Sofia airport through a sea of taxi drivers and black coats, to wrap us in giant hugs! They braved the shock of their friends back home, who wondered why anyone would ever go to Bulgaria? I guess it’s a bit off the beaten path, but as countries go, Bulgaria is easy… just a hop past Frankfurt to an offbeat, European city with history, nice people, mountains, monasteries, and a culture oozing with music and cheese. It even has Christmas markets! And an ice-skating rink, where you can warm your hands with hot doughnuts and gluhwein. It was a splendid week of cooking, walks, wine, naps with the cat, and bringing Grandma’s Christmas recipes back to life.

The boys even liked the fruitcake!

Mom and Dad stayed busy while we were at work and school, exploring the corners of our oddly shaped neighborhood and trying not to trip on the broken sidewalks. Their daily walks to Fantastico meant Happy Hour was ready when we got home, as Mom bought wine (from Woodinville!) and Dad hunted for pickled fish and caviar. If you’re someone who likes jars of marinated fish parts, this is definitely the country for that!

Our Christmas traditions are not complicated, but seem to revolve around food and God, which I suppose is what makes us just like people celebrating holidays all over the rest of the world. Cinnamon rolls, snowballs, chocolate covered peanuts, and gingerbread are the traditions I’m good at, while Mike is an expert at things like omelettes and roasted duck. Beef fondue has been our Christmas tradition for ages, although it doesn’t always work in countries with a different meat culture. Europe is more of a pork place than a beef place, and we’ve found over the years that beef cuts can be a little weird. Bulgaria loves pork, but their Christmas Eve tradition is vegetarian. They have beans, stuffed cabbage, cheese pastries, baklava, dried fruits, and homemade bread baked with a lucky coin in the middle. After dinner, Christmas carolers sing door to door, and the food and dishes are left on the table for ancestors who come to visit during the night.

We don’t leave out dirty dishes, but we DO leave out milk and cookies for Santa, and sing Christmas carols. So many ways we’re alike!

Loving your family, and needing them sometimes, is also one of those ways.

On Christmas morning we woke up many hours before our teenagers, giving us time to sit by the tree, sip coffee, and remember other happy times. As I get older, I love it best when our plans include time like this. Nobody is busy, and a few unwrapped presents or a store-bought panettone are signs that we cared more about listening to each other than making things perfect. I would rather sit still and be comfortable with nostalgia. One day, it will be all we have left.

Each of the things on this mantle display represents a memory to me. The colored Santas are from Kyiv, the white Santa is from Strasbourg, the reindeers are from Austria, and the beaded Christmas tree is from Zambia. I can’t quite remember when we acquired the little round snowman, but I know he was Oma’s and was accidentally left behind. The cookie plate for Santa is a gift from Austria, and the red couch pillows come from a shopping mall in Bulgaria. The nostalgia in all these little ways is the comfort and the strength, not the sadness.

The memories of my Dad sleeping on the couch and making stuffed mushrooms with my son, and my Mom making fruitcake and helping with the puzzle, are the comfort, not the sadness.

Gus liked working on the puzzle and opening presents too.

On the sunny days, which all of us wished were snowy, we took advantage of the weather to get out to see things.

Downtown Sofia is charming and rustic, and still has a feel of the past because of its time behind the Iron Curtain. Its Balkan history, however, is deep and long. Austrian and Ottoman empires have rolled through over the centuries, leaving behind parks and nice architecture, and its position in the middle between catholics, protestants, and muslims also leaves behind a fascinating religious tolerance. Churches, mosques, and synagogues all sit within blocks of each other, and Bulgaria is proud of the way it protected its Jewish population during WWII. Next to the metro, roman ruins are being unearthed, and people gather at public fountains to collect water from underground hot springs. The churches are in the center of everything, quietly glowing with music and candles.

The time went too quickly as it always does. Fortunately, Bulgaria has lots of official holidays around Christmas (first, second, AND third Christmas), which gave us plenty of time to wander down Vitosha, sample rakia, and watch the boys fly across the world with their Flight Simulator. We also had time for a road trip to Transylvania, a tour of Ceausescu’s palace, a visit to Dracula’s castle, and a New Year celebration with fireworks from our rooftop.

But mostly, we had time to just be a Family, just as we are, today. This moment, like all the moments, can in fact last forever if we slow down enough to notice.

I’m noticing it all, and am so very, very grateful.